


Doodles

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [13]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisians, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cat/Human Hybrids, Established Relationship, Felisian!Jack, Felisians, Gen, M/M, Shameless Newsies Bonding, The Newsies Have Officially Claimed Davey, Underage Drinking, sharpie art, soft bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Never let it be said that Jack's friends can't turn anything into an excuse to celebrate.





	Doodles

**Author's Note:**

> I am back with more shameless fluff. In which Specs is the most observant best friend, and the newsies have officially claimed Davey.

Never let it be said that Jack's friends can't turn anything into an excuse to celebrate. The chaotic jumble of people enjoys getting together and being their generally chaotic selves so much that they find every reason to throw a party. So Jack isn't the least bit surprised when he gets the group chat message announcing a "Congrats for Surviving Syllabus Week" party the first weekend of the semester.

"You sure you're up to goin'?" Jack asks Davey, who is currently sprawled out on Jack's bed doing a reading assignment for one of his classes.

Davey glances up, raising an eyebrow. "Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

In the process of drying his hair from his post-work shower, Jack shifts the towel aside to shoot a dry look across the room at his boyfriend. "I dunno, maybe that thing where you got hit by a car not too long ago," he suggests sarcastically.

Although the bruises have finally faded from Davey's skin at this point - except the largest one on his hip which is now a pale yellow-green splotch the size of Jack's palm - there's still the vertical line of stitches that span the side of his face and the violet cast on his right forearm from a double compound break. Davey, in typical fashion, just rolls his eyes. "I'm fine, Jack. I've been going to classes and work all week. I think I can handle sitting around watching our friends be idiots."

The felisian snorts appreciatively at the comment (while a part of him warms to hear Davey refer to them as 'our' friends.) "Just checkin'," Jack says, making one last pass at drying his tail. "Everyone's exhausted after first week, even when they ain't been busted up."

"Which is code for 'you're tired and looking for an excuse not to go?'" Davey teases. He's still holding his textbook open on the mattress but his gaze is currently hovering in the area of Jack's bare legs, and the felisian preens. When he can't help but flick his tail in satisfaction, Davey blinks and hastily turns his attention back to the textbook, and Jack chuckles.

"Didn't say that," Jack counters. "Just sayin' I ain't opposed to a lazy night in either. And I feel bad 'cause everyone's gonna be drinkin' but you can't." Davey is still taking pain pills for his broken arm, although a much smaller dose, so he can't have alcohol while he's on them. "Besides, that stupid show Sarah recommended is weirdly addicting."

Davey laughs. "You mean the one she used to threaten your life with?" Jack shrugs, making a noncommittal noise that prompts another laugh out of Davey. "I'm fine being the responsible adult for one night. And maybe I'm crazy, but I've kinda missed the morons."

"Definitely crazy," Jack agrees with a grin. He grabs a pair of jeans from his floor and tugs them on, twisting to fasten the little row of hook-and-eye catches above his tail. Once he's done, he flicks his tail twice to make sure it's settled; pants with fastenings aren't always as secure as pants that have just been cut to slip a tail through, but they're easier to get on and don't rub his fur the wrong way, so he's willing to take the risk. Besides, worst come to worst, he can always wear a belt.

"Oh shut up and put a shirt on, would you?" Davey says, throwing his pen at Jack, but he's fighting to hide his smile. "We need to leave soon if we're gonna get there before everyone's already passed out."

The felisian snorts, rifling through his wardrobe for a clean shirt. "Thought ya preferred me without a shirt?" he shoots back, throwing a quick wink over his shoulder.

"Sure, but I also don't want to share that view with the rest of the city," Davey replies without missing a beat, sending Jack into a fit of laughter. "Besides, it's January; you'll get a cold."

Smirking, Jack snags a flannel off the hanger. "A'ways lookin' out for me," he teases fondly, ducking in to steal a kiss. Jack drags a tee over his head and then shrugs on the flannel shirt. "M'kay, you ready?"

Davey nods, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing. When they step out into the living room, Race is poring over a textbook at the dining table while he stabs distractedly at a bowl of cereal with one hand. "Ya know that us'lly works better if you scoop 'em," Jack offers, his grin shit-eating.

"Shaddup, furball," Race says, but he casts a subtle glance at his bowl and spoons up the last of the Cheerios floating in the milk. "You guys headin' to Albo's?" he asks around the mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah, you comin'?" Jack asks.

"Fuck yeah, I need a break from this shit," Race agrees, closing his Advanced Engineering book with more force than is probably necessary. "Get a Masters, they said. It'll be _fun_ , they said."

Davey scoffs from where he's leaning against the wall, attempting to pull his shoes on with one hand. "I'm pretty sure nobody on earth has ever said that," he says dryly. "I like school, and even I'm scared of the idea of a Masters' thesis."

"Not helping," Race intones with a glare. "Now can we get to where there's enough alcohol to make me stop wanting to settle for a life of bussin' tables in my Pa's restaurant?" Without waiting for them, Race slips out into the hallway.

"He's fine," Jack says when Davey casts a slightly perturbed look at him. "Does this start of ev'ry term, gets himself all riled up. He'll simmer down once his classes get goin' and he remembers he likes that stuff."

As Davey nods in understanding, Jack surveys his boyfriend appreciatively. He's changed his usual wardrobe up a little to accommodate the bulky cast on his arm, and in the faded Henley and a baggy old jacket he pilfered from Jack's closet, it makes Davey look somehow younger and softer. "You're staring," Davey says, giving him an amused look.

"I'm an artist, it's called _studyin_ ', remember?" Jack replies, grinning. "And you're adorable." He steals one more kiss and then nods to the door. "C'mon, we betta go before Race loses his shit."

The subway ride up to Greenwich Village is filled with playful banter, mostly Jack and Race jibing back and forth the way they have since the moment they met. The apartment shared by Albert, Elmer, and Buttons is above a Polish deli owned by one of Elmer's relatives, although Jack can never remember exactly _how_ they're related. It always smells a little bit like cabbage, but no one minds them throwing parties as long as they wait until after the deli's closed for the day.

The three of them troop up the rickety metal stairs on the side of the building, and Race taps his knuckles on the door impatiently. A minute later, the door's thrown open by Albert, and he beams when he sees them. "Racer!" the redhead cheers, dragging him in for a clumsy hug. "My best friend who abandoned me for love! I never see ya anymore."

Race snorts, extracting himself from Albert's long arms. "We literally saw each other Wednesday," he points out, but he's fighting back a smile. "We're in the same class, stupid."

"Abandoned," Albert repeats emphatically. Jack snickers. It's clear the redhead is already several drinks in at this point; he always gets dramatic when he's drunk, or more dramatic than usual, at least, and a bit overly-affectionate. "Tossed out like yesta'day's trash. Neva felt so - _Davey_!" Albert's attention is immediately diverted when his gaze lands on Davey, and he grabs the other boy's chin in a hand so he can examine the stitches on his face. "Dude, you got fucked up."

"Wouldja let us in a'ready?" Race asks and then pushes passed Albert into the apartment without waiting for a response.

The redhead seems to realize they're still on the doorstep at the moment because he steps back, letting the other two inside and shutting the door behind them. Before either of them can make a motion to take their coats off, Albert wraps Davey in a hug. "So glad you're not dead," Albert says. "We were all freaked as shit when we heard."

"Thanks, Albo," Davey says, darting an amused look at Jack.

"Hey, guys!" Albert yells, spinning to face the others crowded into the living room. "S'Davey, and he ain't dead!"

"Davey!" The cheer goes up from every direction and the next thing Jack knows, his boyfriend is swept off in a parade of hugs and celebrations. The felisian chuckles, shucking off his coat and throwing it on the heap by the door. Slipping into the tiny corner kitchen, he pours himself a drink and then finds a place to perch on the arm of a battered sofa.

It's a good fifteen minutes later before the mob lets Davey sit down, but several of them are still hovering, sprawled nearby on whatever surface they can find. "Why purple?" Buttons asks curiously, their gaze focused on Davey's cast.

"My little brother picked it," Davey admits, laughing. "We were on our way to see that Spiderman movie when I got hit, so he had the clever idea of mixing the colors of Spiderman's costume together. And red and blue just so happen to make-" Davey holds up his casted arm with a rueful smirk. Buttons and Romeo both apparently think that's the funniest thing of all time because they fall into each other laughing.

"Hey, lots of cool superheroes are purple," Mush chimes in from where he's laying upside down on a beanbag chair. "Like, Magneto! And he's Ian McKellen too, so he's a badass."

"The Wonder Twins!" Blink throws out with a laugh.

"That chick from Teen Titans, the emo one," Romeo supplies.

Boots scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You all are totally forgetting Psylocke. She kicks so much ass."

"You just like her 'cause her uniform's, like, fifty-percent _boot_ ," Mush says, smirking. He yelps when Boots smacks him in the face with her tail, batting the fur away from his mouth with one hand. "Oh, and there's the Avengers guy with the bow and arrows."

Romeo blows a loud raspberry. "He's the most boring-est one." The conversation devolves from there into an energetic argument about superheroes - or maybe argument is a strong term; it's really more like several people shouting opinions at each other all at the same time.

"Our friends are such nerds," Specs intones, appearing at Jack's elbow with a grin.

Jack snorts into his drink. "Youse read all the Harry Potter books like ten times," he points out. "Don't really think you got room to call no one a nerd."

Specs shrugs, not refuting it. He's quiet for a minute, sipping at his drink. "Glad Dave's okay," he says. "That's some scary shit."

"No kidding," Jack agrees, shaking off the memories threatening to resurge. He's had more than one nightmare about hearing the accident on the other end of the phone, of the blare of a horn and the thump of a body on metal. "He's damn lucky. Guess doc said if he didn't catch himself on his arm, would'a landed on his head and it could'a been way worse."

"Fuck." Specs takes a long drink and then his gaze settles on Jack. For his friendly, unassuming features, Specs has always had one of those stares that makes Jack feel like he sees straight through to his insides. Jack darts a glance up, flitting his ears at the strange prickle of being watched, and raises an eyebrow. "Damn," Specs breathes, his eyes going wide. "You're totally in love with him, ain'tcha?"

Startled, Jack hastily looks around them, but no one is paying attention to the two of them. That's the last thing he needs, this bunch of hooligans hearing something like that. Not that Jack's ashamed of it or anything, he just knows the teasing will never stop, and he doesn't want to deal with that while this feeling is still so new. Jack downs the rest of his drink and nods toward the kitchen with a pointed, "Gettin' a refill. Ya comin'?"

"Could use another," Specs says, nodding.

Jack hops off the sofa arm and slips into the kitchen, immediately moving to refill his cup. When he turns back, Specs is watching him with a knowing grin. "Oh stop lookin' all smug," the felisian says, his tail flicking.

"I've known ya since we started high school," Specs says, smirking. "You think I don't know ya by now?"

"That obvious?" Jack asks, wincing.

Specs laughs, moving over to top off his own drink. "Let's put it this way: I 'member how crazy you were 'bout Kat, and even that's got _nothin_ ' on the way you look at Davey," he replies deliberately. Jack hates the way he can feel the back of his neck burn red and hopes he can blame it on the alcohol. "Damn, playboy Jack Kelly's in love," Specs says, grinning. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"'Cause it's fuckin' terrifying," the felisian says with a half-hysterical laugh. "I dunno how folks do this. Feel like I'm goin' crazy sometimes. But then he got hit and I just-" He trails off, carding a hand through his hair, and lets out a breath.

Thankfully Specs knows him well enough that Jack doesn't need to finish his thought. "And that was scarier than the idea of bein' in love, huh?" Jack nods, and his next sigh comes out edged in an anxious growl. "Shit, you got it bad. Told him yet?" Jack ducks his head, but he knows there's no hiding the way the heat is spreading up into his cheeks now. Specs laughs. "You _did_! Wow, look at you, lover boy."

"Shh, wouldja?" Jack says, flailing a hand. "Those guys find out they ain't never gonna shaddup."

Specs shoves his knuckles into his mouth to muffle the sound. It takes him a second to get his giggles under control, but once he does, he grins and bumps his shoulder against Jack's. "Hey, jokin' aside, I'm real happy for ya. He's a good guy. Youse good together."

The felisian's eyes slide to the living room, and his gaze lands on Davey almost unconsciously. He smiles, his ears easing forward. "I - yeah, he's good." In the other room, Davey glances over and he meets Jack's eyes, his smile instantly shifting into something softer. Jack sways his tail, that warm buzz in his chest flaring again, threatening to vibrate through his ribs in that way he still isn't entirely comfortable with admitting to.

"Okay, that's the sappiest shit I ever seen," Specs says, dissolving into laughter against Jack's shoulder. Raising his glass in front of them, Specs slings his other arm around Jack. "To sappy best friends."

Jack laughs, rolling his eyes, but he taps his cup against Specs' in a graceless toast. "To asshole best friends," he replies, and they both drink.

Davey's voice suddenly breaks loudly over the others with an indignant, "I swear to God, Albo, if that's a dick I'm gonna push you in front of a bus."

Specs promptly chokes, spitting his drink out in a spray of flavored vodka. Jack pats him on the back before he ducks back into the living room, his head cocked curiously. Davey is still sitting on the sofa in the middle of a large cluster, most of whom are currently doubled over laughing. "The fuck was that?" Jack asks the room at large.

Grimacing, Davey holds up his casted arm. There are black markings all over the violet tape, letters and shapes at random intervals. "Someone found a Sharpie," Davey says with weary resignation.

"Now gimme back," Albert says, making grabby hands at the raised arm with a marker still clutched between his fingers. "I wasn't drawin' a dick," he adds at Davey's glare. "It's a puppy. See, that's his head and that's his feet."

"That's the ugliest fuckin' puppy," Elmer says sincerely, head tipped and eyes squinted like that will make the drawing suddenly look better. "Is it a puppy that got hit by a car?"

"Shh, that's mean," Mush says and shoots a concerned glance at Davey. "Ya know Dave got hit by a car. You're not s'posed to talk 'bout that shit." Davey rolls his eyes, his expression suggesting that he's running short on sanity at this point. Jack knows that feeling; as much as he loves his friends, they can definitely be exhausting too, especially when they're drunk.

"A'right, that's 'nough," Jack says, flapping his free hand to shoo people away. "My boyfriend. Go find somethin' else to doodle on, ya weirdos." It takes a minute to chase everyone off enough that Jack can claim the spot beside Davey on the sofa. He immediately pulls Davey in for a kiss, nudging his nose affectionately. "Hi."

Davey chuckles. "Hey you," he replies. "Thanks for the rescue."

"Maybe I just wanted ya to myself," Jack suggests with a grin. "Or maybe I wanted to do some doodlin'."

"Well, you can help yourself there," Davey says. "You can't make it worse than these idiots."

Jack takes Davey's arm, turning it over carefully as he examines the damage. It looks like everyone scrawled their names onto the cast, although there's no rhyme or reason to the placements. A couple of them added little pictures - Mush drew a flower over his name, Romeo turned the Os in his name to hearts, someone drew a cartoon sun wearing sunglasses, and then, of course, there's Albert's- "Fuckin' hell, Albo," Jack says, nose scrunching. "You ain't never allowed to draw anythin' but stick figures ever 'gain."

"Oh fuck you," Albert replies with an accompanying hand gesture. "Can't all be fuckin' Picasso."

Ears perking, Jack glances at the cast again and grins. "Hey, which one'a you idiots got the Sharpie? Gimme. I'mma fix this mess y'all made."

" _Y'all_?" Romeo teases loudly, descending into a fit of snickers.

Meanwhile, someone - Jack doesn't actually see who - hurls the Sharpie across the room, the marker bouncing off the sofa cushion and onto the floor. Jack snatches it up and eyes the cast appraisingly. Setting his drink down, Jack plucks the lid off the Sharpie and looks up at Davey. "Can I?"

"Already said you could," his boyfriend reminds him and obligingly sets his arm on Jack's knee. "Everyone else did." Even as he tries to sound exasperated by it, there's no missing the little smile hovering at the corner of his mouth or the brightness in his eyes. Davey's told Jack before that he never expected to make very many friends coming to NYU, since he's something of an introvert, and Jack can tell the collection of names of people who care about him makes him happy.

Tip of his tongue between his teeth, Jack eyes the cast appraisingly and then gets to work. He adds little flourishes and designs in the gaps between names to fix the unbalanced look, spiraling vines with tiny leaves and elaborate snowflakes and flowers. Davey chuckles appreciatively when Jack draws a coffee mug with wavy trails of steam out the top. When he finds one particularly large empty patch near his elbow, Jack narrows his eyes and then looks around the room. "Specs, c'mere," he yells across to the other man. "Your name ain't on here."

"Ooh, yay!" Specs says eagerly and he climbs over the top of Romeo to reach the sofa. Grabbing the offered marker, Specs signs his name into the spot in his looping cursive, although it's a little less smooth than usual. Then, grinning, he draws a little pair of glasses sitting on top of his name.

Jack gasps excitedly and snatches the Sharpie back. "Good idea," he says and starts searching out the other names. Next to Buttons', he draws a little button with a loose piece of string hanging off, and next to Boots' goes a combat boot with cat ears. To Specs' satisfaction, Jack adds a tiny lightning bolt above the glasses on his name. "Anyone else missin'?" Jack murmurs, eyes casting around the room.

"I think Spot's the only one who couldn't make it," Davey responds, also scanning the room thoughtfully. "Sniper signed it before he left." Nodding, Jack finds another empty place and draws 'Spot' in blocky letters, decorating it with polka dots. "I always wondered, why do you call him Spot?" Davey asks curiously.

"Got a white spot on his tail," Jack says distractedly, turning the dot above the I in Sniper's name into a crosshair.

Davey's brow furrows. "He does? I've never noticed."

Jack casts a quick, mischievous grin at his boyfriend. "S'cause it's up where ya can't see," he answers with a wink. Davey's eyes widen in surprise and then he laughs, warm and relaxed. Jack turns his attention back to his art project. "M'kay, that everyone?"

"You," Davey says, amused, nudging Jack's knee with his foot.

"Oh, duh, right," the felisian says and snorts. Finding a blank spot on the inner part of the wrist, Jack writes his name, smiling as he adds a tiny cowboy hat the top of the J. Then he turns Davey's arm back over and starts drawing a large, elaborate rose onto the back of his hand.

"That's like the one you like to draw in my coffee," Davey notes with a fond smile.

Flicking his eyes up briefly, Jack smiles. "'Xactly." Jack fills the remaining space on his hand with slowly expanding petals, and then, as a finishing touch, colors a little heart into the very center. "There, whatcha think?" he asks, capping the Sharpie.

Davey rotates his arm, surveying it from every angle. Now, instead of the jumbled and chaotic sprawl of names, his entire cast is filled with designs that pull it all together. There are a few small patches that still don't look great to Jack's eye, and of course, there's no saving Albert's horrendous doodle, but- "It's perfect," Davey says with a broad smile. "I love it."

Beaming, Jack leans in and kisses Davey. "Love you," he whispers against Davey's lips, bumping his nose affectionately.

"You too," Davey answers and his eyes spark in that way that fills Jack's chest with sunshine. With the art project finished, Davey scoots closer on the sofa, tucking himself under Jack's arm and molding to his side. Davey's gaze glides around the room, over Race and Specs and Albert playing a card game in one corner; over Mush and Blink and Buttons, who've picked up the superhero argument again; over Boots curled up lazily against Elmer's side where he's telling an animated story to Romeo. "It's nice to be back," Davey says.

"Yeah, it is." It's the times like this that make Jack grateful he decided to stay in New York instead of moving somewhere else for school. Yes, the city gets overwhelming sometimes, but this is where his life is. His stupid, mismatched jumble of friends, and his family, and now Davey. Jack glances down to see Davey tracing the names on his cast with a finger, a beautiful, fond smile on his face, and Jack can't completely mask the pleased hum in his chest. "S'good to be home."


End file.
